


Befreckled Skin

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas appreciates Martin's freckles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Befreckled Skin

It was a sunny morning. Martin had extricated himself from the sheets and from Douglas’ arms to sprawl across the mattress, enjoying the sun that filtered in through the blinds and played out warmly across his back.

"Sunbathing without leaving the house, are we?" Douglas asked when he woke, reaching out and laying a warm hand in a splay at the lower part of Martin’s back, making the smaller man hum. 

"Not gonna burn here."

”Ah, I bet you burn very nicely, too. All these charming little things connect in orange, do they?” Douglas teased, his fingers moving up the line of Martin’s spine in order to begin playing over the freckles across his shoulder.

"I burn spectacularly." Martin agreed sleepily, pressing his cheek hard to the pillow and enjoying the cushion of it. "Then I peel."

"Oh, you poor boy." Douglas leaned over, beginning to press kisses to each cluster of freckles that he could see before him on the other man’s skin, enjoying the pleasured little hums of happiness the treatment drew from his captain. "I’ll have to ensure you’re nice and oiled when I get you into a tight pair of swimming trunks and get you into the water."

"I don’t do tight pairs of swimming trunks."

"Hmm." Douglas flipped Martin over, blowing warm air over the freckles on Martin’s clavicles, making him giggle at the tickling sensation. "And how could a humble pilot convince his captain to concede?"

"He could perhaps allow his captain first crack at the cheesetray for a month." Douglas chuckled a little, kissing down to Martin’s navel as a clever, piano-player’s finger traced over the muscle of his thigh. 

"A more immediate proposal, perhaps?" Martin chuckled, arching his back and tilting his head back.

"You could fuck me."

"Seems a more reasonable exchange."

"And make me breakfast." Douglas let out a laugh as he took in Martin’s clever expression.

"I knew it was too good a deal." Douglas reached up with his fingers, playing a crude dot-to-dot on Martin’s befreckled skin with them. "These are beautiful, you know. I’ve never slept with someone with so many."

"I’ll take that for the accomplishment it is." Martin teased.

"I’ll even get you a trophy."

“ _Most freckled of Douglas Richardson’s lays?”_

"A perfect inscription." Martin laughed, grasping at Douglas’ hand and pulling him closer, taking an easy, languid kiss from his copilot. "They really are quite gorgeous, you know."

"I’m glad you think so." Martin murmured, lips quirking into a smile. "Now, breakfast, if you please." Douglas groaned, but heaved himself from the bed all the same.

"You are a cruel mistress, mon capitan."

"A befreckled one, too."


End file.
